


oh, my good luck

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Couch Cuddles, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rise's throwing her phone away. For real, this time.





	oh, my good luck

**Author's Note:**

> [self-indulgence.doc](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHvOVWp7zAQ)
> 
> happy valentine's day ♡

"I'm throwing my phone away," she rasps, having gracefully slammed their front door, and he knows this time she means it because she was out with Naoto, and you never return from an appointment with Naoto feeling unsure.

"Okay," he says, and also, "Welcome home," as Rise toes off her shoes and then sighs, a heave such that he knows she is looking at him, tired and aching and ready for several naps.

"'m home," she agrees, with as much gusto as can be mustered. Then she lets her shoulders fall and he pulls her close, saying, "Dinner's ready," and she mumbles, "I mean it this time, I am," and he kisses the top of her head and says, "I know," and she smiles into the scent of him before sighing again, another choking thing, and he removes himself to fetch something hot and with ginger.

She trades the dress for an oversized shirt and Momo, tucks herself and aforementioned Nyarukami into the sofa, and pulls the laptop onto her legs.

She calls Yōsuke.

"Rise-chan!" Yōsuke yelps, having expected Yū, and—as the previously absent best friend snuggles beside his wife with a snort, a book, and the tea—rushes to make himself and the camera angle more socially acceptable. Once a shirt is procured, he tries again, "H-Hey, partner. And—uh, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Rise-chan? How are you feeling?"

"Hey," says Yū, warmly, and then, "That's a nostalgic color."

Yōsuke groans. "Ugh, lay off, I'm talking to Rise-chan." But he snatches a speckled-orange towel and wipes at the dye on his face.

Yū assures him that he meant it sincerely and that he likes it, but turns obligingly to attend to the cat.

Rise declares, "Senpai, I'm throwing my phone away," except that half the sound is too stifled to reach Yū, nevermind the internet.

Yōsuke winces. "Still bad, huh?"

Scowling, Rise repositions herself and the laptop to type, to which Yōsuke nods animatedly and responds via text himself, until Rise reminds him, "I can hear _fine_ , Hanamura," and he blushes and blubbers, "Oh! Oh, right!" and they continue their conversation half-and-half. Momo having scurried away, Yū sips at his own tea and considers with fondness how Yōsuke is still Rise's tech support and still so quintessentially genuine; he guides her with a patience that is all Yōsuke, never former-Junes-employee, and when he assures her that her photos are in the cloud and her data is secure and her contacts are absolutely safe, she types something silly and he stutters that, oh, um, yes, he loves her, too.

"But you're _positive_?" Rise asks for the third time.

"Yeah," says Yōsuke, "any other phone will be the same deal once you link it to your account. Three hundred pics of Momo, safe and sound."

Rise nods, flips her phone over, and neatly pulls the SIM out of the tray. Then she hauls herself off the sofa, sets the SIM on the kotatsu, and slams the phone against the wall.

Yū saw it coming and even he jumps. Yōsuke's eyes are wide and unblinking around the word, " _Dude_."

She fashions herself a new cup of tea and crawls back into place. Flashes her idol smile and a peace sign, mouths her thank you, and folds the laptop shut before Yōsuke's finished his proper good-bye.

To the crook of Yū's neck she admits, "I quit. Ririn, I mean."

Ririn is her highest-paying job. Also the one she has nightmares about, where she is disappointing in the dream her own flesh-and-blood daughter for lack of passion, and more that she has yet to confide.

She's crying.

"I couldn't do it, Yū. I was talking to Naoto and"—here she coughs—"and, Naoto _just_ told me to delete my social media or announce a"—and another—"a hiatus or something, so I pulled up the app to do that and _just then_ some asshole fans are tweeting at me and—and I couldn't. I can't. Inoue-san called when I was coming up with something more official to say and I just told him I can't and he has to handle it." Yū rubs circles on the small of her back as she lets out a sob, and then, "Oh, I'm a teenager! I'm running away again."

"No," says Yū, because it is testament to Rise's work ethic that she has lost her voice and still blames _herself_ , "you're amazing and overworked and they want too much of you." She's shaking her head into him, a feverish thing, but he continues, "Listen, some of Risette is Rise's to keep. We're lucky, Inoue-san knows that."

She shakes her head again.

"'No'? He doesn't know that?"

Coughing, and then more.

"'No,' you don't want to talk about it?"

This time she nods with a sniff.

"Okay," he says, gently, "we can talk about that tomorrow. Let's do something else."

This suffices and she resurfaces, nodding still, wiping at her eyes with her knuckles. He glances around for an occupation, setting away his novel—offering to read aloud is out, because his taste is questionable and she is the better, Nanako-certified reader.

Spying the shelf he suggests, "Movie?"

A thumbs-down. "No screens," she croaks. Too late it occurs to him that any acting can be a reminder of what ails her, but doesn't apologize so that it passes untouched. Instead he pulls his own phone out of his pocket and slides it off. "Good idea."

Rise smiles, her face refreshedly alight, as if all this time it was the devices drawing at her power. Now when she stands it is more comfortably, dancing to the cabinet that houses their array of board games for Nanako and Yū's uncle's visits, where she scans them with a finger to her lips.

He thinks of the three card games he knows and her Kujikawa poker face and how much he loves her.

She chooses Go, at which he is invariably better, and together they crawl under the kotatsu.

She wins.

Pleased, she's not quick to offer a rematch. He retrieves more games from their stock and stacks them like castle walls, a garrison for hours of relief from phones and from Ririn. Deductive thinking is not Rise's favorite sport but still she falls deep in a round of Cluedo in which Yū plays for Momo as Plum; Scrabble, where she's quick to play small words and makes him tally the score, is not so fortunate. The most entertaining bout is their match in LIFE, when she sticks a blue peg into her yellow car and names her spouse Shirogane, then when it's his turn to get hitched offers another little blue figure allegedly named Hanamura, which he accepts with a laugh and rides to the end. Neither of them procure children but late enough in life that Rise is retiring Yū manages to adopt a boy Kuma and a girl Nanako, by then the finer points of his life because Hanamura-san and his low-paying job have left him fairly broke.

He is rescued, at least, when Momo arrives, knocks their cars off course, and sits her furry butt on the spinner. So ends LIFE.

She yawns, coughs, stretches. Collapses, face squished onto the kotatsu. "What time is it?"

"Doesn't matter," he says, firmly, "until tomorrow." Rest is also a responsibility.

She traces invisible hearts on the table, humming gently. Then: "What if I can never sing again?"

"That won't happen."

"You don't know that."

"It won't," he says. He has commanded gods.

Stroking Momo she says, "I'm afraid they'll never hear me."

Never a need to ask who. To his feet, then, and he offers a hand to pull her up, too, which she takes numbly. "Rest, Rise," he says, because some of Risette is theirs to save, and she nods too many times and follows, clutching him close.


End file.
